


Blacks Don't Bunk

by Dallas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1940s, Bunkers, F/M, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dallas/pseuds/Dallas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When stuck in Diagon Alley during a raid it's best not to take chances. However, the last person Cedrella expected to bunk with was Septimus Weasley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blacks Don't Bunk

At the time of her birth a great War was ending. A Muggle one, of course, but a great War nonetheless. The Wizarding World had not remained untouched. Wards had been forcibly taken down to ensure the protection of their world. Ministries Worldwide had decided it wouldn’t do for a bomb to be dropped and cause confusion when there was no damage, or worse still their shield lit up the Muggle made objects hit it. So certain areas were warded heavily instead. Just like the Muggles they were directed towards bunkers in the event of a bombing. However, unlike the Muggles, their shelters were more like large hotels on the inside while taking up very little space on the outside. It was something she’d heard of many times growing up but she never thought she’d actually find herself in one.

There were two bunkers in Diagon Alley and as the rush began she wasn’t sure which one her Mother and younger sister had headed towards. She knew they’d been on their way to have Charis’ wedding robes fitted when she originally lost track of them, which meant they were probably closer to the other bunker near Knockturn Alley. She muttered a quiet prayer to the Lady Morgana that they would not be stupid enough to stay outdoors as she moved with the crowd into their new safehaven. She watched as the crowd dispersed into various lines as room numbers were given out. There were a few people she recognised as being of her own status but the majority weren’t and she felt her throat growing dry. The Blacks made just as many enemies as they did alliances and the thought of being stuck with a great number of people who strongly disliked her family was not at all appealing.

As she walked idly though the small entrance hall, looking around in confusion, she was bumped and prodded by all manner of people. In comparison Diagon Alley had never seemed to crowded before. But then people always seemed to part like the sea before Arcturus and Lysandra Black. Cedrella had always managed to keep close to them for fear of being crushed. Now that fear was being realised. She sidestepped a family pushing past with no hesitation, spun on her heel to avoid a pram, and found herself falling backwards as a group of burly men bumped into her. She closed her eyes, preparing for the inevitable pain as she hit the floor... but it never came. Two strong arms grabbed her around the waist, hauling her upright once more. She looked up to thank her rescuer only to find herself frozen with her mouth open. A sight her Mother would have berated her for.

“Cedrella?”

“Septimus?”

He seemed just as stunned as she was, his arms still firmly around her waist. She couldn’t remember his arms being quite so strong at Hogwarts. But then it had been some years since they graduated and he probably put more effort into his appearance for some woman he had courted and married by now.

“Cedrella, are you alright?” he asked a second time when she didn’t respond.

“Yes, I...” she swallowed, trying to find the right words. “I’ve not been down here before, I don’t know...”

“Ah,” one of the lowly Ministry workers joined them. “Your room number will be 117, Mr and Mrs?”

“Weasley,” Septimus answered without thinking and as the man jotted it down and turned to leave he quickly protested. “Wait, no, we’re not a...” but it was no use. There were too many people for the man to stop and take note of any problems and clearly he’d seen enough already to simply be giving out room numbers and not much else.

“Mrs Weasley?” she hissed, finally finding her voice as she pushed away from him.

“I didn’t mean to, he caught me off guard,” he said quickly. “I’ll get you another room, I’ll grab one of these people and get them to find you a room.”

“No,” she caught his sleeve desperately. “Please, can you just get me out of this crowd? You can’t leave me here.” Her dark brown eyes were filled with fear as she looked up with him. Between the crowd and the sirens blaring outside, she was certain she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

For a moment all he could do was look at her. Certainly he would get in more trouble being caught alone in a room with Cedrella Black than leaving her on her own for a few moments while he sorted out a new room arrangement. But then, it was probably just a false alarm. They’d be stuck together for a few hours at most, perhaps a night, either way he was willing to sacrifice his dignity for the knowledge that she was safe. And apparently she was happy to sacrifice hers as well. “Come on then, room 117,” he said, taking her hand firmly in his. The hallways were clearly marked and her manoeuvred them both carefully through the crowds until he found their room and ushered her in.

“This is it?” she asked, unable to hide the disappointment.

“It’s a war bunker, Cedrella, not a holiday destination,” he told her as moved about the room, opening the only other door to find a small bathroom. “At least we don’t have to share a bathroom with the rest of Diagon Alley if the worst comes to the worst.”

“No, but we have to share a bed...” she looked at what appeared to be a King sized single bed pushed up against the wall and then looked back at Septimus.

“We’re adults, surely we can handle sleeping in a bed together,” he said with a heavy sigh. Not liking the idea of sleeping on the floor but certain it would probably come to that. “Besides, we might not even be down here that long. Haven’t your bunked in one of these before?”

“No,” she said quietly, looking at him nervously. “I’ve always been at home when these things happen. Blacks don’t bunk, or so my Grandfather’s portrait continues to state.”

“Professor Black,” Septimus shuddered involuntarily at the memory of his former Headmaster.

“He was a good Headmaster,” she frowned, annoyed that anyone would think differently about her Grandfather.

“Oh, I’m sure he was as long as you weren’t the seventh Weasley to be under his watchful eye,” Septimus dropped down onto the bed, leaning back onto his elbows. “Just because I’m a Weasley doesn’t mean I’m going to cause chaos just like my brothers.”

“And just because we’re Blacks doesn’t mean we’re completely prejudiced in that way,” Cedrella offered, shrugging her shoulders lightly. “He told me you had potential. What you took for menace was actually a Professor keeping an eye on a student in an effort to keep him on the right path.”

“And why would he have told you something like that?”

“We did talk, you know,” she pointed out, taking a seat and putting her shopping on the small table. She wasn’t about to explain to him that she’d asked her Grandfather why he was so hard on the boy. Then she’d have to let him know why she’d asked in the first place.

He dropped his head, nodding slightly. It hadn’t been his intention to suggest anything otherwise. Outward appearances aside, he was sure in some ways the Blacks were just like every other family. Some of them, at least, seemed that way at school. “Have you eaten today?” he asked after a few moments, pushing himself up and running his hand through his shaggy ginger hair.

“We were supposed to be going to lunch after the fitting,” Cedrella said quietly as she unlaced her travelling robes.

“We? You were with someone?” he asked curiously. He hadn’t thought to ask, though he probably should have presumed. She was an unwed young woman, after all, unless she’d managed something that the papers didn’t get a hold of. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise, I could help you find them...”

“I was with Mother and Charis,” she explained, looking up at him. “We had to go in for the last dress fitting before the wedding.”

“I read in the papers your sister was to marry,” he looked at his hands, the floor, the door, anywhere but her. “The first I saw said only that the Crouch boy was to marry the daughter of Arcturus Black, the second.”

Her dark eyes stayed on him, studying him as he spoke. She couldn’t understand why the wedding would matter to him. It wasn’t like he was going to be invited. She hadn’t seen him since they left Hogwarts. Their circles barely migrated towards one another let alone merged. She licked her lips and waited. For what, she couldn’t say. But his words, quite suddenly, seemed extremely important.

“I’d completely forgotten about Charis,” he spoke again after a long pause. His fingers traced the veins in his hand as he forced himself to keep talking. “All I could think was, no. Not the girl with the raven hair and ebony eyes. Not those hands bearing the ring of another or those lips kissing a different boy.”

Instinctively she licked her lips, her breath steady as she let his words wash over her. “You think I’ve not kissed another boy?” her eyebrow arched.

He raised his head, a fire flaring in his eyes as he looked at her. “I think you’re yet to kiss a man.”

Cedrella breathed in sharply and looked away. Her mind flooded with untoward thoughts, each leading to another and burning her cheeks. “The same old Septimus Weasley... so sure of yourself,” her breath caught in her throat as she spoke.

“I’d like to think that’s in my favour. You loved that Septimus once,” he reminded her.

“Do you really believe now is the time for this conversation?” she dared to look at him again, raising her chin in an effort to maintain her dignity.

“Can you imagine another time I would get you alone long enough to listen to me, without interference?” he shook his head lightly, knowing she would likely negate everything he said.

She stood, her fingertips pressing against the table in an attempt to hold onto some stability. She thought of those arms wrapped around her and how she used to feel him responding to her touch beneath their uniforms. The tip of her tongue traced her lower lip. “Show me then, how different it is to be kissed by a man,” she kept her eyes on his, drawing on the strength of her Black blood to stop herself from backing down. When he made no move towards her she scoffed, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “As I suspected... You’re no man, Septimus Weasley. Just a little boy with dreams he’ll never accomplish.”

It all seemed to happen at once. He stood swiftly, taking three steps across the small room so that he stood toe to toe with her. One strong arm grabbed her around the waist, pulling her body flush against his, his fingers threading into her hair as he held her head back so she was looking up at him sharply. In an instant he admired the sharp angles of her cheek and jaw bones, the soft curve of her neck, and the heavy heave of her breasts against his chest. An instant was all it took when he had admired such features many times before. His eyes met hers and he lowered his lips to hers, kissing her with a desperate passion that had long lain dormant. Her lips opened to him as his tongue brushed against hers, a low moan sounding from somewhere in the back of her throat.

As they broke apart, both breathing heavily, an authoritative voice could be heard lingering in the halls outside repeating a message they had missed the first time around.

It was a false alarm. They could all go home.

Yet he would not let her go and she could not move even if she wanted to. They stared at each other, breath mingling, lips occasionally brushing against one another. “If I asked you to marry me...” he finally whispered, breaking the silence.

With her eyes firmly shut she shook her head slowly. “My family would disown me,” she breathed, a tear escaping the corner of her eye and rolling smoothly down the side of her face. “I would never be allowed to see my sisters again, my cousins... my Grandfather...”

“Let me be your family,” he said quietly.

“Septimus, I...” she pulled back from him, escaping from his hold. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair out of place, but she only had one thing on her mind. “Please don’t make me choose.” She took her bags from the table and gathered her travelling cloak, resisting the urge to look at him once more before she rushed out of the room leaving him standing alone.

He touched his lips, memorising the sensation and marvelling at how different it had been to their time at Hogwarts. He didn’t want to force her from her family, he just wanted her. Surely he could make her see that wasn’t such a bad thing. He just needed another chance.


End file.
